Slave to Love
by 80's Movie Contest
Summary: Bella's boundaries are tested when she begins a new relationship with mysterious and aloof Edward Cullen.


**80's Movie - Anonymous One-Shot Contest**

**Title: Slave to Love**

**Movie Inspiration: 9½ Weeks**

**Characters: Edward & Bella**

**Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

**Summary: Bella's boundaries are tested when she begins a new relationship with mysterious and aloof Edward Cullen.**

* * *

"English Breakfast tea with steamed milk for Bella," called the barista over the din of the busy coffee shop where I was supposed to be meeting my best friend and roommate.

Just as I was placing a cardboard sleeve on my hot cup of tea, a familiar voice spoke from behind me. "I'd never have guessed that."

"It's about time, Rosalie," I chided as I turned to face my tardy friend. "And what do you mean?"

She waved her hand. "I'm only a few minutes late. And what I mean is that I practically could have ordered for you. You always get the same thing."

I shrugged. "What's wrong with that?" I stepped with her as she got in line to order.

She sighed. "Nothing, I suppose. You're just kind of predictable, that's all. Don't you ever want to try anything different?"

"I know what I like."

"But how do you know you won't like something else just as much, or even more, unless you try it?"

"Rosalie, why do I feel like we're not talking about tea anymore?"

She didn't answer immediately, turning instead to the clerk at the counter. As if to prove a point, she ordered the latest seasonal offering, some kind of coffee drink with pumpkin and spice.

As we moved toward the bar to await her drink, Rosalie resumed our conversation. "You're my dearest friend, Bella, so you know that I say this with love." She paused for dramatic effect, and I rolled my eyes. "I think you're in a rut."

"What?"

"You've been working so much lately. And even when you're not working, you rarely want to go out. When you do, it's with the same people you see all the time."

I shook my head. "Again, Rosalie, I don't understand what's wrong with that."

The coffee shop was becoming more crowded by the minute, and I was jostled lightly. As I took a step forward, I glanced over my shoulder at the offender. He was looking down at his phone, but he was tall enough that I was able to make out his striking features: slightly disheveled hair, almost-feminine pouty lips, strongly masculine jaw. Wow.

I turned back to Rosalie, who raised a knowing eyebrow at me. I scowled.

"Don't you want to meet anyone new, Bella?" she asked.

"It's not that I'm opposed to meeting anyone new. But I love my friends. I enjoy spending time with them."

"And it means you don't have to put yourself out there again."

"Rose-" I started.

She cut me off. "It's been six months, Bella. I know you were with Jacob for what seems like forever. I know you still see him all the time."

"We're just friends, Rose," I insisted.

"I know! That's what's even more perplexing to me. Why are you spending platonic time with your ex, when you could be out there meeting someone new?"

"It's not that easy, Rosalie. Or, it might be for you, but it's not for me."

It was Rosalie's turn to roll her eyes at me. "Sure it is. Hell, we could put an ad on Craig's List. 'Hot single white female, twenty-five years old, seeks someone to flavor up her vanilla life.'"

I couldn't help but laugh, even while I protested, "My life is not vanilla!"

"Okay," she sarcastically replied. "Whatever you say."

Rosalie's drink was finally called, and as she busied herself with retrieving it, I felt a solid body behind me and warm breath in my ear.

"I wonder," a low, seductive voice said, "if I were to suck on your creamy skin, would it taste like vanilla?"

I gasped, feeling a rush of heat through my entire body. I whipped around just in time to see the man who had bumped into me earlier stride toward the door, coffee in hand. As he opened the door to step outside, he turned and pierced me with his gaze. It felt like we were on opposite ends of a tunnel; the coffee shop and all the people in it, save us, disappeared. An indeterminate amount of time later, he winked, and the spell was broken. I watched his retreating back until Rosalie asked me if I was ready.

9 ½

Four days later, I found myself thinking of the stranger from the coffee shop for the millionth time as I perused the vendors' booths at Seattle's annual Italian Festival. The day was overcast but pleasantly mild, the warm, sunny days of summer fading as September came to a close.

I fingered a hand-painted silk scarf, contemplating whether it was worth the three hundred dollar price tag. Had Rosalie not stood me up in favor of her sometimes boy-toy, Paul, I would have asked her opinion. As it was, Rosalie was out "getting some," as she very bluntly told me she would be, and getting stood up had left me a little ambivalent about everything. And maybe a little jealous of her.

It wasn't that I blamed her. Rosalie had always enjoyed a very satisfying sex life, and I admired the way she embraced her sexuality and made no apologies for it. I wasn't completely inexperienced, but her comment in the coffee shop about me being "vanilla" had really hit home, because I had to admit it was true.

I'd always been a serial monogamist. I had one boyfriend in high school, Mike. Together, we fumbled our way through the most basic first sexual experiences—first kiss, first hand jobs… We even took each other's virginity, in clichéd fashion, after prom our senior year. We enjoyed straight-up missionary position sex several more times over the summer—or at least Mike enjoyed it—before leaving for separate colleges in August.

Our attempts at maintaining a long-distance relationship were half-hearted at best, and we both moved on to other relationships. Jacob and I instantly hit it off when we met on the first day of my sophomore year. He was a freshman, moving into the men's side of the co-ed dorm where I lived, and was tall and muscular, and he might have seemed imposing if not for his ever-present smile and good humor. We became fast friends, and when he kissed me for the first time during a marathon mid-term study session, it seemed natural and right.

We were together for five years, and I experienced many more firsts with Jacob. I discovered new positions I enjoyed, and I reveled in the talents of Jacob's mouth. I'd never thought of our sex life as unadventurous, and I was always satisfied... until the last year of our relationship, which was nearly devoid of sex. We reverted back to being friends, occasionally sleeping together when we needed a release, but we weren't really into it or each other. We both let it drag on for months, knowing things weren't quite right but afraid to lose the easy comfort of our relationship. In a move uncharacteristic for me, I finally addressed the elephant in the room, and Jacob and I ended our romantic relationship.

Jake had a harder time letting go than I did. We still got together regularly, and there were times I could tell he wanted more. But as hard as it sometimes was for me to come to a decision, once I did, I stuck with it. Jacob just wasn't the one for me, and we both deserved more. _Better_.

I let the silk slip through my fingers one last time before returning the scarf to the rack and making my way to a gelato stand. I settled myself on a bench with my waffle cone of pistachio gelato and watched the crowd for a bit, wondering if maybe Rosalie had a point.

"Vanilla?"

I whipped my head around so fast I nearly injured myself. I felt the same odd tunnel vision I'd experienced in the coffee shop as I looked into the verdant eyes of the stranger on the opposite end of the bench.

When his lips quirked up in a half-smile, I found my voice. "Pistachio, actually."

He replied with an "mmmm" that made my heart beat faster. "Are you enjoying it?" he asked.

"Very much."

"Not as much as I'm enjoying the sight of that pretty tongue of yours licking it."

My face flamed and I swallowed hard, looking down at the ground. I didn't know what to make of this guy. He was awfully forward, considering that I didn't even know his name. I knew that should make me uneasy, and to an extent it did, but I also couldn't deny the draw I felt to him.

"Beautiful weather for the festival, isn't it?"

I did a double-take. Just like that, he'd gone from sexually-charged comments to polite conversation about the weather. I shook my head.

"Your mood swings are giving me whiplash," I said.

He laughed, looking almost boyish, and definitely more benign than indicated by the seductive gaze he'd leveled on me just minutes earlier.

"I wouldn't want that," he said, smiling. "Perhaps it would help if I introduced myself. I'm Edward Cullen. You're Bella."

I did another double-take. This guy really knew how to keep me on edge. "How did you know my name?"

"'English Breakfast tea with steamed milk for Bella,'" he replied, in a perfect imitation of the barista's voice from the other day.

"Of course." I smiled, a bit uneasily. In an effort to exude more confidence than I felt, I thrust my hand toward him. "Bella Swan."

He took my hand and gently lifted it to his mouth, where his lips grazed over my knuckles ever so briefly. As light as his touch was, it was also electric. I could feel my nipples tighten, and his mouth curled into a wicked grin as he stared shamelessly at my chest.

He threw me off-balance again a moment later when he abruptly looked me in the eyes. "Is Bella short for anything?"

I shook my head lightly to clear it, and told him, "Isabella."

"Isabella," he repeated, and grinned even more broadly. "Will you have dinner with me?"

9 ½

He said he wanted to stick with the day's theme, and took me to his favorite Italian restaurant in the city: a little family-run, hole-in-the-wall place well away from the Sound. There were no tourists to be found here; in fact, I was fairly certain that most of the patrons were well-established regulars, Edward included.

He insisted on ordering for me, telling me that he frequented the place so often that he knew what dishes best represented the talents of the chef. It might have annoyed me if he hadn't been right.

"Try this," he said, holding out a bite of his porcini-dusted sea scallops with tomato relish. His eyes didn't leave my mouth as it closed around his fork. Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, I let out a purposeful moan, savoring the tenderness of the scallops and the tangy-sweet bite of the relish.

His eyes narrowed briefly, then captured mine again as he once again smiled at me lasciviously. He held his wine glass to my lips, wordlessly telling me to try his Soave Classico. They parted almost involuntarily, and he gently tipped the glass, filling my mouth with the dry white wine. I unconsciously licked the rim of the glass as he pulled it away, and I felt a flood of desire course through my body as I watched his tongue snake out to lick the same spot.

Forty minutes later, I was admiring the view from his three-bedroom, two-bath floating house in Eastlake, wondering if I was crazy for going home with a guy I barely knew, and who so unnerved me. The smooth saxophone of "My One and Only Love" surrounded me, and I turned from the window to find Edward walking toward me, a glass of bourbon on ice in each hand. He handed me one of the tumblers and I took a sip, reveling in the burn of the buttery liquid as I swallowed.

"Coltrane, Knob, the spectacular view… nice seduction scene you've set here," I said. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

"Isabella, you've come to my house with me after knowing me for"—he looked at his watch—"approximately five hours. You were aware enough as we arrived to realize that I am at the very end of the pier. Relatively isolated. My neighbors are few and far between, and most of the surrounding houses are vacation homes."

I took a step back, his words unnerving me. He wouldn't let me get away with that, though, and stepped toward me, encroaching on my personal space.

"You must trust me, Isabella, or you wouldn't be here, where there is no one to help you, no one to notice anything wrong. No one to hear you scream."

His words were threatening, but his voice was seductive. My mind was yelling at me to get the hell out of there, but my libido kept me frozen in place.

He took a step back, grinning, and said, "Of course, for the right kind of screams, a little privacy can be good."

I released a big breath and took another, larger sip of bourbon. I probably shouldn't have been drinking—the alcohol would only make my already-suspect judgment even fuzzier—but Edward's intimidating and seductive presence made me crave the relaxing warmth the bourbon provided.

Edward walked over to a chair and retrieved a small bag I hadn't noticed sitting there.

"I got you something," he said, striding toward me while pulling something out of the bag.

I gasped when he placed silky fabric in my free hand. "How-"

"I saw you admiring it at the festival," he said. "It suits you."

We had not parted company since he'd sat down next to me on the bench, so I knew he had to have purchased the scarf before he even knew my full name. I finished off my bourbon, overwhelmed.

Edward took my glass and set it on a table next to the couch. He then took the scarf from my hands and turned me to face away from him.

"I just want to try one thing," he whispered in my ear as he tied the scarf over my eyes like a blindfold. My heart rate increased and my breathing picked up, but from fear or arousal, or a combination of both, I couldn't say.

"Trust me," Edward said as he led me to the couch and guided me to lie down.

I felt his lips on me then—first on each of my covered eyes, then my cheeks, then the tips of my nose and chin, and finally on my mouth. They were soft at first, but not hesitant. He placed several gentle kisses on my mouth, then I felt his tongue against my top lip. I opened my mouth to him without hesitation, and our tongues tangled and tasted.

His mouth moved across my jaw to the sensitive spot behind my ear, where he gently sucked. "Mmmm. "Sweet like vanilla."

His lips and tongue traveled down my neck, and his hands worked the buttons of my blouse loose. The front clasp of my bra was next, and he moved the cups away from my breasts, barely grazing my nipples in the process and eliciting a gasp from me. My blouse was still covering my breasts, with a path of skin exposed between them and my entire abdomen bare.

I felt warm air and the occasional brush of his lips against my stomach, and then his hands slipped around to my back and under the waistband of my jeans. He slowly slid them around my sides and to the front, where he undid the button and zipper, then reversed the path of his hands to slide the jeans down my legs. After removing my boots, he took my jeans completely off, and I lay on the couch in my panties and partially open blouse, blindfolded.

I heard nothing, felt nothing for several long moments, and was about to sit up and remove the scarf from my eyes when I heard the clinking of ice in a glass very close to my ear. I felt something cold against my lips, and tasted diluted bourbon and Edward's fingers when I opened my mouth. Edward moved the ice over my chin and down the front of my neck. He let the ice cube rest in the hollow of my throat, and then I felt his lips against me as he took the ice cube in his mouth.

I could hear him chewing the ice, followed by more clinking sounds, and another piece of ice was on me, this time traveling a path down the exposed skin between my breasts, to my stomach. The ice was cold, but left a fiery path, my body's responses heightened by my temporary blindness. Edward circled my belly button with the ice, then slid it back up, moving my blouse aside to completely expose my breasts.

After more clinking sounds, I felt two pieces of ice on me, traveling in slow concentric circles around my breasts, my already-aroused nipples becoming harder with each circuit. I heard more crunching, and suddenly Edward sucked my left nipple into his mouth. His tongue had been chilled by the ice, but his breath was hot, and the dual sensations sent my arousal into overdrive.

I let out a low moan as he moved to my other breast and simultaneously slid another piece of ice down my stomach. He slipped the ice under the waistband of my panties, sliding it from hip bone to hip bone slowly. He lifted his mouth from my breast, then blew cool air along the wet path left by the ice. When he reached my panties, he ran his nose down to my pussy, breathing hot air over my covered wetness.

"I can't wait to taste you," he said, and I whimpered.

He moved down my body and lifted my left leg. He ran a piece of ice across the sole of my foot and up the back of my leg, pausing to suck the back of my knee. The sensation was slightly tickling, and deeply erotic. I felt the ice cube slide across the crease between my ass and my leg, from my hip to my inner thigh, and then Edward lowered my leg, gliding the ice down the front, circling my knee and placing a gentle kiss to the top of my foot when he reached it. I heard him retrieve a new piece of ice before repeating the same circuit on my right leg.

This time, after he kissed the top of my foot, I heard him drop what was left of the ice back in the glass just before he placed an open-mouthed kiss on my covered pussy.

"You're exquisite, Isabella," he said as he sat up. He removed the scarf from my eyes and said, "Thank you for a lovely evening. I'll take you home now."

I blinked, not sure I'd heard him correctly. "What?"

"Get dressed, and I'll take you home."

"But-"

"Isabella, did you not enjoy our evening together?"

I nodded and opened my mouth to ask why our evening was ending prematurely, but he continued before I could speak.

"Good. Then I trust you will agree when I request to spend more time with you. But for tonight, we must part company."

I huffed, embarrassingly aroused and sexually frustrated. I dressed silently, fuming.

The car ride to the apartment I shared with Rosalie was silent but for the occasional directions I gave Edward. He double-parked on the street in front of our building and walked me to the door.

I unlocked and opened the door, but he stopped it before it could shut behind me, grabbing me by the arm and pulling my back to his chest.

"Isabella, I know I left you wanting tonight. And later, when you're touching yourself, I want you to think of me."

He placed a lingering kiss behind my ear and was gone.

9 ½

I glanced at my watch: three o'clock. It had taken a surprisingly short amount of time—only ten days—of checking my watch at exactly three o'clock every day for it to become a habit. As always, I was thrilled with the idea that Edward was looking at his watch at precisely this time and thinking of me. And, as always, that thrill was immediately followed by the question of whether all of this was a good thing. Edward had a control over me that I wasn't sure I liked. I would do almost anything for him, even things that seemed silly, like this thing with the watch. I thought back to the day three weeks ago when Edward had given it to me.

I had been sitting on the couch in Edward's house when he'd placed a small beribboned box on the bar next to him, across the room from where I was sitting.

"I got this for you," he said.

"Why can't you bring it to me?" I asked.

"Because I like watching you move."

I flushed red, still not quite accustomed to Edward's very sexualized flattery, but I rose from the couch and walked as seductively as I could toward him.

"It's beautiful," I said after I saw the platinum watch encased in the box.

"I want you to look at it every day at precisely three o'clock, and when you do, think of me. Think of me across town, looking at my own watch and thinking of you."

At the time, when everything was so new and overwhelming and exciting, when I was just learning that Edward could elicit responses from my body, and my heart, that no one else had ever even approximated, I couldn't wait to make a daily habit of thinking of Edward thinking of me. Now that it had become routine, though, I realized that it was just another small way for Edward to exercise control over me. In the beginning, he asked me every day whether I'd thought of him at three. He didn't ask anymore because he knew the answer. Of course I did.

I sighed as I thought about him. He was such an enigma—so tender and passionate, but also very demanding and controlling. And it was all jumbled up together; he was generous almost to a fault, but even his generosity was just another way of exerting power.

I glanced down at the dress I was wearing and remembered the day Edward bought it.

I had spent the night at Edward's, and the next morning, he awakened me with sweet kisses and murmured that breakfast was ready.

When we finished eating, he told me to get ready for the day, and directed me to the clothes that he'd laid out for me to wear. The skirt and sweater were lovely, but it was October, and could get chilly during the day. When I voiced my protest about the skirt, Edward said I didn't have to wear the clothes, and that he would take me home instead of spending the day together.

I knew that I was being manipulated, but I didn't want to leave, so after I showered, I dressed in the clothing he'd selected.

"You're beautiful," he told me and kissed me on the cheek.

Edward took me to a trendy boutique, and silently selected another outfit for me to try on.

I changed into the dress he'd chosen, which was shorter than I would normally wear, although not obscenely so, and placed the coordinating heels on my feet. After deciding the dress wasn't for me, I was about to change back into my own clothing when Edward's voice stopped me.

"Isabella? Come show me."

I exited the fitting room to find Edward seated in a comfortable-looking armchair, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he reclined. He raised his hand and moved his index finger in a circle. I turned for him.

He cocked his head to the side briefly, then turned to the sales clerk and nodded.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I like this?" I asked.

He smiled. "No."

My reverie was interrupted by the head of my division buzzing me to go over last minute details for the event I'd be attending later that night—a chapter reading and question-and-answer session with a new author our agency represented. She was my client, and this event was a dress rehearsal of sorts for the big launch party we'd be hosting in a month. It was my job to hold her hand and make sure she was happy. My boss was certain she was one to watch.

It was one of the rare nights I wouldn't see Edward, but a part of me was glad for the break. We'd been spending so much time together in the five weeks we'd known each other that I felt like I never saw Rose anymore. She and I had agreed on a girls' night in, planning to eat ice cream and catch up after I got home from the Q & A.

"Hi, honey! I'm home!" I called out as I closed the door behind me and dropped my keys on the table.

"Who's there?" Rosalie shot back. "I'm pretty sure I live alone."

"Ha, ha." I kicked off my heels and plopped down on the couch next to Rose. "You're gone just as much as I am."

"Not that you would know," Rosalie said under her breath.

"Rose-"

"I'm just glad you're here tonight. I'm looking forward to catching up."

"Me, too. Just let me get changed out of these clothes."

"Grab the ice cream on your way back!" she called.

Comfy pajamas, freshly washed face, and a stop by the freezer later, I resumed my spot on the couch, handing Rose a spoon and the Chunky Monkey.

"So," she said.

"So."

She rolled her eyes. "Things are going well with Edward, obviously."

"Yeah, they're… intense."

"Intense might be an understatement, Bella. You're at his place almost every night."

"I know, Rose, and I'm sorry I haven't been around as much lately." I looked down at my pint of Strawberry Cheesecake. "You know how it is at the start of a new relationship."

I saw Rose nod out of the corner of my eye. "I do know. I remember what it's like to feel like you can't get enough of the other person." She sighed. "I'm just saying, you could spend some time here, too, you know."

"I know." I hesitated. "It's just- Edward lives by himself. It's more… private."

"Ooooohhhhh, you dirty girl!"

I blushed; Rose laughed. When she decided she'd given me enough grief, she spoke again. "I get it. And more power to you. But it'd still be nice to get to know the guy who's turned my best friend into some kind of sex fiend."

"Rose!" I laughingly protested. "You've met Edward."

"Like, once. For half a second," Rose said. "Oh! I'm still invited to that book launch next month, right?"

"Right," I said, nodding hesitantly. "Where are you going with this?"

"You should invite Edward, too," Rosalie said, shrugging. "It would be a good opportunity for me to get to know him a little better, since you'll have to be in work mode for most of the night."

"Hm. That's not a bad idea."

"It's a damn good idea!"

It was my turn to roll my eyes. "You're right, Rose. You're a genius."

"And now that we've established my brilliance, we need to talk about Jacob."

"What about Jacob?"

"He keeps calling, Bella. You never used to avoid him like this," Rose gently admonished.

"It's been months, Rosalie," I said. "_Months_ since we broke up. It's time for him to let go."

"Well, you should tell _him_ that when you have dinner with him tomorrow night."

"What? I'm not having dinner with Jacob tomorrow night."

Rosalie frowned. "When he called earlier, he made it sound like this was something you guys had planned."

I thought for a moment. Jake and I had gotten into a habit of having dinner together on the first Thursday of every month, and it _was_ the first week of November.

I shook my head. "I can't, Rosalie. I have plans." I paused. "You should go with him."

"Why would _I_ have dinner with _your_ ex?"

"It's not like you guys aren't friends," I pointed out.

Rosalie opened her mouth to respond, but shut it again.

"Besides," I pressed, "I think the only reason he's always given you such a hard time is because he actually has the hots for you."

We both burst out laughing then, and the seriousness of the evening was broken. We spent the rest of our girls' night talking about nothing and everything and simply relaxing.

9 ½

I was able to take off from work a little early the next day, much to Edward's delight. A theater downtown was hosting a revival of Hitchcock films, and Edward had been almost desperate to take me to _Notorious_. I'd seen it before, but never on the big screen, and the film was one of Edward's favorites.

I loved seeing him at times like this. He was so unguarded, almost boyish in his excitement, and it was a refreshing change from the normal intensity he exuded.

His lightheartedness continued as he made dinner for the two of us back at his place, refusing all of my offers to help, except to open and pour the wine. He even declined my offer to clean up after dinner; my argument that I should clean because he cooked fell on deaf ears.

"You're spoiling me." I pouted.

"Impossible," Edward replied. "I just enjoy taking care of you. Let me?"

As I sat at one of the kitchen stools while Edward cleaned up, I recalled Rosalie's advice from the night before.

"Edward," I said, "there's a book launch party at the beginning of next month for one of the authors I represent. I'd like you to come."

He paused, his back to me. "Why?"

I frowned. "Because I'd like you to meet my colleagues, and spend some time with my friends. Because I'd think that my boyfriend would want to support me professionally."

He didn't say anything for a long time, and instead finished his clean-up of the kitchen. Finally, he turned to me and crossed his arms, leaning up against the counter opposite me.

"Isabella," he said, his voice low, "have I ever given you the impression that I'm anything but supportive of your work?"

I said nothing.

"Did I complain when you told me you had to work last night? Have I ever complained when you've had to work late or go out of town?"

His questions still seemed rhetorical, so I remained silent.

"I know you love what you do, and I'm confident that you're very good at it. I don't need to attend a party to see it for myself, especially not when _you'll be working_." He leaned forward a bit as he said the last three words, and I finally found my voice.

"Well, Rosalie will be there, and some of my other friends, and I thought it might be nice for them to get to know you a bit better."

He raised his eyebrow. "Other friends? Like Jacob?"

I looked away. "Jacob might be there, but I was really talking about Rosalie," I said, back-pedaling. "She's been asking about you a lot."

Edward crossed the kitchen to lean on the counter in front of me. He ran the backs of his fingers down my left cheek.

"You'll be working, right?" he asked.

"Yes."

He nodded once. "Then no, I won't go."

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off.

"Isabella, it's not that I'm not interested in what you do. I am. And I'm very proud of you, and I will look forward to you telling me all about the party and how it went." He took my hands in his. "But Isabella, I know you. And I know you'd spend half your night worrying about me, and whether I was having a good time, instead of doing your job. That wouldn't be fun for either of us."

I smiled ruefully. He had a point.

"Besides," he continued, "I like that our evenings together are just ours. If you have to work, or I have to work, that's one thing. But when we plan to spend an evening together, I like it to be just us." He tucked my hair behind my ear and kissed my cheek. "I told you before—I like taking care of you. I like buying food with you in mind. I like cooking for you. I like buying you clothes and seeing you wear them. I like tucking you into my bed at night and waking you up in the morning. I like focusing on you when we're together, Isabella." He walked around the counter and moved to stand behind me, wrapping his arms around me and speaking into my ear. "I don't think it's too much to ask to expect that you'll be focused on me when we're together, is it?"

I shook my head.

"And I know you can't do that if you're working." He kissed my ear. "So you go to your party, and when I see you after, I promise I'll focus very hard on congratulating you for a job well done."

I shivered just as Edward's phone rang.

"Excuse me," he murmured as he stepped away from me.

"Hello?"

I raised an eyebrow, and he held one finger up to me.

"Right now?"

He ran a hand through his hair.

"This isn't a good time."

I frowned, and he turned just slightly away from me.

"Fine." His words were clipped. "I'll be there in thirty minutes."

He hung up, and this time, both of my eyebrows were raised in question.

"So much for focusing on each other when we're together," I said wryly.

He cast an inscrutable look at me. "I apologize, Isabella, but this particular business cannot wait. Will you stay?"

I hesitated.

"I shouldn't be gone long," he assured me.

I nodded.

"Good." He kissed me on the cheek and was out the door.

I looked around, trying to figure out what to do to occupy myself while Edward was gone. I poured myself another glass of wine and ventured out onto his deck, but it was too cold to stay outside. I perused his extensive music collection, marveling at the variety of artists and genres represented, and trying to figure out his obscure system of organization.

An hour later, I was out of wine, bored, and no closer to figuring out Edward's system than I'd been before. I hadn't heard from him and he still wasn't home, so I decided to head up to the bedroom. I lay in bed trying to sleep, to no avail. I tried to read. Another hour passed.

As I lay there looking around Edward's bedroom, my curiosity got the best of me. As many times as I'd spent the night there, I'd never been on my own with a chance to explore.

I opened his closet, to find it as immaculate as the rest of the house. His clothes were perfectly laundered and pressed, hanging in the closet by color and category, all on the same type of wooden hangers. His shoes were polished and organized on shoe racks. His ties were hanging on a motorized tie rack, organized by color.

His bathroom was more of the same—everything organized by size and category, neat and clean. His bedside tables held nothing personal. There was lube, and there were condoms, and even some sex toys, but there was nothing that told me more about who Edward really was. I had just opened the drawer to the second bedside table when my phone rang.

"Edward, hi!" I answered, startled.

There was a brief silence before Edward spoke. _"Isabella, have you been going through my things?"_

My eyes immediately darted to the windows that took up one entire wall of Edward's bedroom, and then I remembered that they looked out over the water and I shook my head at myself.

"_Have you been snooping, Isabella?"_

I wasn't sure how to interpret Edward's tone of voice. He didn't sound angry, but I felt chastised.

"Y-yes."

"_I'll be home in twenty minutes."_

I briefly considered leaving before Edward returned, but that would have been the coward's way out. Perhaps I shouldn't have gone through Edward's things, but I was an adult who didn't deserve to feel like a wayward child being sent to the principal's office. I re-dressed, went back downstairs, and tried to stay calm as I waited for Edward.

Eighteen minutes after he'd hung up the phone, I heard his key in the door.

I looked him in the eye when he entered the living room, taking what I believed was the adult approach and hoping it would prevent me from feeling like I child when we had the inevitable discussion about boundaries.

Edward said nothing.

"Edward, I'm sorry I went through your things. I should have respected your privacy more."

He still said nothing.

"In my defense, you've been gone for hours. I guess my curiosity just got the best of me while I was waiting for you."

He continued to look at me, but I wasn't sure what else I could say. I'd given what I felt was a valid excuse, if not exactly a reason, for my actions. I'd apologized.

I shrugged as I stood. "All right. Well, it seems like you don't have anything to say, so I'm just going to go."

I started toward the closet to retrieve my coat and purse, but was stopped by Edward's voice.

"Isabella."

I turned toward him.

"You agree that you did something you shouldn't have."

"I apologized, Edward."

"But do you agree that you did something you shouldn't have?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Yes."

"Then remove your pants and come to me."

I blinked and shook my head. "What?"

"You did something you shouldn't have. I'm going to spank you."

I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, or smirk, or even wink—_something_ to let me know he was teasing. His face was stoic.

"You're kidding me," I said.

"I assure you, Isabella, I am not kidding." His gaze hardened a bit. "Drop your pants and get over here."

I took a step toward him. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm the person whose things you snooped in without permission," Edward replied.

"I have apologized for that, Edward," I bit out. "And that's all I'm going to do. I'm not your child to be punished."

I headed toward the closet again, but was stopped this time by Edward's hand on my arm. "Then don't behave like one, Isabella."

I looked down to where Edward was gripping my elbow. Maybe I should have been scared, but instead, I was seething. I tried to shake him off, but he only gripped tighter.

"Let me go, Edward," I said warningly.

His gripped increased to the point of mild discomfort, and this time, I violently shook him off and pushed him away from me.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

He took a step toward me, arm raised. The look on his face was placating, but I was too keyed up to notice before I raised my own arm to push his away.

Edward grabbed my wrist, more gently this time, and pulled me to him. I struggled in his grasp, too angry and offended to want to be close to him. I just wanted to get out.

"Don't fight me, Isabella," he said, his tone both soothing and stern.

I flailed my arms, not trying to hit him, but just trying to get away from him. This time, he grabbed both my wrists and lifted my arms above my head as he pushed me back into the wall.

I writhed in his hold, and he pinned me to the wall with his body. I shook my head when he tried to kiss me, and he shifted his grasp on my wrists to one hand, then grabbed my chin with the other.

We stared at each other, both breathing heavily. I somehow knew that he was waiting for me; he wouldn't force a kiss, or anything else, on me. I didn't want to concede—he had made me so angry—but I was powerless against the passion and power of his gaze.

I closed the short distance between our mouths and kissed him, hard. I bit down on his lower lip and he hissed, pulling away from me. I could see a tiny drop of blood forming where I'd broken the skin, and was simultaneously mortified and thrilled.

He led the kiss this time, coming at me so hard that my head hit the wall behind me with a loud crack. Our aggression only fueled my lust. I grabbed Edward's shirt and pulled, ripping the fabric and scattering buttons across the wood floor.

In turn, he lifted my shirt, stopping when the shirt had cleared my nose and my arms were trapped above my head, my eyes still covered by the shirt. With his free hand, Edward pulled the cups of my bra down. There was no gentle teasing. He pulled my right breast into his mouth, sucking hard, while his hand pinched and pulled forcefully at my left breast. It might have been painful if it hadn't been so pleasurable. Edward bit down on my right nipple, making me cry out, and he abruptly ripped my shirt the rest of the way off.

My arms free, I grabbed the loose sides of Edward's shirt and turned us, pushing him into the wall. After completely removing his shirt, I reciprocated the attention he'd paid my chest by licking and nibbling on his nipples. I made my way down his torso, loosening his belt and undoing the button and zipper on his slacks as I went. I dropped to my knees, pulling Edward's slacks and boxer briefs down. He was hard and ready, but I bypassed his cock and bit down on his hip bone instead. I sucked on the skin there, intent on leaving a mark, but Edward wove his hand into my hair and pulled hard.

In response, I pushed his hips back against the wall and sucked his cock into my mouth. Edward let out a loud groan and used the hand still in my hair to guide my head at the tempo and depth he wanted. When I started to gag, I wrapped my right hand around the base of his dick and stroked what couldn't fit comfortably in my mouth. Edward increased the speed, and I struggled to keep up without choking. Abruptly, he yanked on my hair with one hand and pulled on my arm with the other, bringing me to stand.

He made quick work of the button and zipper on my jeans, then toed off his shoes and stepped out of his pants, which had pooled around his ankles, while I finished removing my clothes. Edward bent his knees, wrapped his arms around me, and picked me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he carried me to the sofa. Instead of laying me down on it, however, he walked around behind the sofa and set me down on my feet. He roughly pushed on my shoulders to turn me, wrapped one arm around my waist, and pressed down hard between my shoulder blades, forcing me to bend forward.

"Hang on tight," he said through clenched teeth, and I gripped the back of the sofa with both hands.

He kicked my legs apart, lined himself up with me, and entered me hard. I cried out, and felt Edward's soft hands rub gentle circles on my ass and hips before he pulled back slightly.

What happened next surprised me, partly because it was unexpected and partly because I liked it: Edward slapped my ass, just enough to sting a little. My instinct was to be indignant, and I tried to squirm away from him, but his left hand held my hip firmly, holding me in place. His right hand rubbed gently over where he'd struck me, and the initial sting faded to pleasure. I moaned, and felt a sting on my left, followed immediately by soothing strokes. I moaned again and wiggled my hips a bit.

"You like that, don't you, you naughty girl?" Edward asked, his voice low, seductive and taunting. I moaned in response.

He spanked me one more time, and then began pounding into me relentlessly. His thrusts were so hard that the couch moved across the floor with the force of them. I felt intermittent slaps against my ass, but I was so lost in the pleasure that they barely registered.

I felt Edward's sweaty chest against my back, and his right arm snaked around me, his fingers finding my clit with just the right amount of pressure. I came hard, my back arching and my ears ringing, and was barely able to remain on my feet as Edward stood upright again, increasing the speed and power of his thrusts until he roared out in his release.

We both collapsed to the floor, Edward pulling me to his side and running his hand through my hair, gently working out the tangles.

"I told you you needed a spanking," he said, and we both laughed.

9 ½

The day of the book launch had arrived, and I still hadn't been able to convince Edward to come. It was probably just as well—I _would_ be busy, and without him there, I could focus on work and not on managing the different personalities of my favorite people. I was already struggling a little to adjust to the new dynamic in my relationships with Rosalie and Jacob.

Rosalie had taken my suggestion to heart and had taken my place at Thursday dinner with Jacob. When I'd seen her that Friday evening after work, she had blurted out to me that she'd slept with him. I was surprised, and a little weirded out, but we didn't have much of a chance to talk about it, as I had to meet Edward and she had to meet Jacob. At first, I was convinced that Jacob was just another in a long line of attractive and virile notches in Rosalie's bedpost, but they'd been seeing each other for three weeks and seemed to be happy.

The whole thing was both as awkward as I would have expected it to be, and somehow not at all. They were good together, but it was still strange seeing my best friend and my ex-boyfriend dating. I'd been spending even more nights at Edward's; the first time I ran into Jacob after he'd spent the night with Rosalie had been more than a little weird.

There was a knock on my office door, and our receptionist let herself in when I responded.

"A courier just dropped this off for you, Bella," she said as she handed me a white linen envelope.

"Thanks, Chelsea," I replied, frowning as I saw that the envelope was addressed only to me—no company name or address was listed.

When I opened the envelope, a plastic hotel key card fell out onto my desk. The note inside read, "Room 1918, The Westin Seattle, 5:00. Attire will be provided." Edward's handwriting was recognizable enough, but I wasn't sure what this was all about. He knew I had the launch party tonight, so I couldn't figure out why he'd want me to meet him a mere three hours before it was scheduled to begin. Unless…

The party was being held at Elliot Bay Books. The Westin was a lot closer to the book store than my apartment was. Maybe this was Edward's way of making up for his unwillingness to attend the party.

I skipped out of work a little early, as did most of the staff who would be attending the party. I felt a little strange arriving at the Westin with no luggage, but Edward's note had indicated he would have a change of clothes for me.

I let myself into the room—one of the hotel's executive suites—and called out for Edward. There was no response, and a cursory glance around the suite told me that I was alone. I checked the closet, and sure enough, there was a tasteful cocktail dress in a green the color of Edward's eyes. I kicked off my shoes and allowed myself a few minutes to enjoy the view of Puget Sound.

I was startled when the suite's telephone rang.

"Hello?"

"_Hello, Isabella,_" Edward replied. "_I see you got my note_."

"Yes, thank you, Edward."

Edward chuckled. "_Don't thank me just yet. Did you find the clothes I left for you?_"

I smiled. "Yes, and again, thank you. The dress is perfect."

"_Ah, yes. Well, the dress is for later. Did you find the other things? The things I left in the top dresser drawer?"_

I frowned. "No."

"_That's all right, Isabella. After we hang up, go to the dresser and change into the items you find there. Make sure to put on everything, and wait on the bed for me._"

"Okay."

"_I'll see you soon, Isabella_."

After I replaced the phone in its cradle, I went to the bedroom and opened the top drawer, as Edward had instructed. Inside, I found a black corset and garter belt, seamed stockings, and a blindfold. Heat rushed through me as I recalled the first time Edward had blindfolded me.

I took a few minutes to freshen up in the bathroom before I changed into the lingerie Edward had selected, along with the heels I'd found in the closet with the dress. My heartbeat quickened as I wondered what he had planned.

I returned to the bedroom and pulled back the covers on the bed. I stacked the pillows against the headboard and situated myself comfortably against them, then put on the blindfold and waited.

I didn't have to wait long, as just when I'd gotten settled, I heard the door to the suite open. I sensed Edward before he spoke.

"Isabella, I can't tell you how pleased it makes me that you followed my instructions so well."

I simply smiled, knowing no verbal response was necessary.

I felt the mattress dip as Edward climbed onto the bed next to me. He kissed my mouth, then gently pulled on my arms to get me to sit up, away from the pillows. He pulled my hips forward and maneuvered himself behind me, pulling me back so I was lying against his chest.

"You look delicious, Isabella," he said quietly. "Do you trust me?"

I nodded.

"Good," he whispered. "I just want to make you feel good before your big night."

He ran his hands down my arms, and then lifted them so they were clasped around his neck behind me. At the same time, I felt another pair of hands gently touch my ankles. I jumped, and Edward's hands encircled my forearms, holding me in place.

"Edward?" I whimpered.

"Shhh," he soothed. "Trust me."

The other pair of hands ran slowly up my legs, which were now tense with stress.

"Relax, Isabella," Edward murmured. "Just feel. Enjoy."

The hands—delicate, soft—fingered the garters that held my stockings in place, then deftly unclasped them. I felt my stockings being removed, one at a time, along with the heels I'd been wearing, and my legs were pushed gently apart. The hands ran up the insides of my legs, over my torso, and onto my breasts, gently squeezing and pinching through the material of the corset.

The material was pulled down, freeing my left breast, and I felt a tongue flick my nipple. I whimpered and tightened my grip on Edward's neck. I was scared and uncomfortable not knowing who was touching me, and yet I felt safe in Edward's arms. My heart was pounding, and I wasn't sure if it was good or bad. I was confused, anxious. My body was responding to the tactile stimuli, now focused on my right breast, but I couldn't quite relax into it.

The lingerie Edward had selected did not include panties, and the next thing I felt was a warm tongue licking me from my entrance to my clit. I couldn't help the moan that escaped me as the tongue continued its exploration, tasting every inch of my pussy and finding the spots that elicited the desired responses.

Edward's hands left my forearms to play with my breasts, but I left my arms where he'd placed them around his neck. The tongue was fucking me as Edward's hands lightly pinched and pulled at my nipples, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted Edward inside me. Then I felt lips close around my clit, and the point of the tongue flicked back and forth at a steady pace and pressure. My orgasm built and built until it finally washed over me. I squeezed Edward's neck as my back arched and I cried out.

"That's my girl," Edward whispered.

Edward's hands undid the knot at the back of my head, and as the blindfold came off, I found myself looking into the very blue eyes of a beaming strawberry-blonde woman.

"Восхитительный," she said, and her gaze drifted from me to Edward.

She crawled up my body and I stiffened. She leaned around me, however, to give Edward an open-mouthed kiss over my shoulder.

That spurred me to act, and I pushed her away from Edward and off me.

"Эй!" she cried, but I barely noticed as I scrambled to get off the bed.

Edward grabbed at me, but I squirmed out of his grasp.

"Isabella," he said sternly, and I turned to him. He seemed surprised by the tears in my eyes. "Isabella," he repeated, more gently this time, "she was just giving me a taste. Of _you_."

I was crying openly now. "I don't care if that's what she was doing, Edward. How on earth could you have thought I would be okay with this? With _any_ of this?"

"You seemed pretty okay with it when you were crying out in pleasure at the talents of Tanya's tongue," Edward argued. I felt like I'd been slapped.

"I'm leaving," I said.

"You don't have time to go home and still make it to your party on time," Edward said. "And I'm certain you don't want to arrive looking like that." He gestured to me.

More tears sprang to my eyes at his callous words. "Then I'll change in the bathroom downstairs! But I'm not staying here."

"I didn't mean it like that, Isabella, and you know it. You're emotional, and you look as if you've been freshly fucked. It's better if you stay here and clean yourself up."

"I am not staying here with her! Or with you!"

It was Edward's turn to look as if he'd been slapped. "Of course. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Too late, Edward."

Edward was silent for a moment before he recovered. "I'll escort Tanya out and leave you to the room." He pulled money out of his wallet and handed it to her before leading her out of the bedroom.

I heard the suite's outer door close and started sobbing. I hated the idea of Edward leaving with that woman, but I didn't want to be around him, either. I sank back down onto the bed.

I felt Edward's hand on my cheek and opened my eyes in surprise. His brilliant green eyes were pained. I'd never seen Edward look so lost.

"I'm sorry, Isabella," he said softly. "I truly didn't mean to upset you before your big night."

I nodded, but couldn't find words to reply to him.

He kissed me on the cheek and left.

I lay on the bed crying for a few minutes more, until I knew I needed to start getting ready or risk being late. I thought about everything that had happened, not just that day, but over the course of the nine and a half weeks I'd known Edward.

I knew that I'd never felt as alive as I did with Edward. I knew that no one could make my body sing the way he could. I knew that no one had ever made me feel as cherished.

But I also knew that no one had ever made me feel as vulnerable, or scared, or out of control as Edward did. No one else had ever put me in such a compromising position, or taken advantage of my trust so utterly.

I ignored the voice in the back of my head reminding me that I'd enjoyed it, at least a little.

I managed to get a handle on my emotions and put my game face on for the launch party, and luckily, Rosalie and Jacob were too engrossed in each other to notice anything amiss with me. I had just completed another circuit of the room and had made my way back toward the front of the store when something outside the window caught my eye.

There stood Edward, holding a paper bag and looking apprehensive. I felt equally apprehensive as I walked outside.

"Edward? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to apologize, and I brought you something." He seemed nervous, and Edward was never nervous.

"Edward, we can talk about this later. I'm working. You _know_ this. It's the whole reason you wouldn't come to the party in the first place."

"I know. I know I said that." Edward fidgeted with the bag in his hand. "But I- I don't know how to do this, Bella."

I sucked in a sharp breath. Edward _never_ called me Bella.

"Look," he said, "I know what I did earlier was wrong. I mean, I think you liked it. I _know_ you liked it, on some level. But I shouldn't have done that without talking to you about it first."

"No, you shouldn't have." I sighed. "Edward, I'm not sure I know how to do this, either. You're always pushing. Like it's some kind of game to see how far you can push my boundaries before I run away."

"Are you running now?"

I sighed. "I don't know."

"I see." He nodded.

"What did you bring me, Edward?" I pointed to the paper bag he held tightly in his hand.

"It's nothing. I'll let you get back to your party."

"Edward, you came down here for a reason. At least show me what you brought."

He looked at me a moment, then handed me the bag.

I opened it and pulled out a Styrofoam container. "Ice cream?" I shook my head, perplexed.

"Vanilla."

My head shot up, and Edward gave me a rueful smile. I couldn't help but smile back.

I turned to go back inside. I opened the door and held out my hand.

"Coming?" I asked.

Edward stepped forward and clasped my hand. He shot me his patented wicked smile and replied, "I hope so."

**Tanya's dialogue: Восхитительный = Delicious; Эй! = Hey!**


End file.
